My Desire
by Duet Of Angst
Summary: When Draco and Harry are in denial...who do they turn to? A journey to the mirror of Erised might just say it all...WARNING: SLASH


**Disclaimer: We do not own anyone from Harry Potter, although if we did...**

**A/N: We would like reviews for this introduction chapter...hope you like.**

**-Nick/Shannon-**

The summer had faded quickly; the vibrant greens and iridescent fields had drifted to autumn gold. The somber mood that had set in with the arrival of a new school year had quite the opposite effect on Harry Potter. He was never so pleased to be departing with the Dursley's. Yet, judging by the hostile actions in which seemed to outdo themselves each summer, Harry could say with confidence the feeling was mutual. The days before his departure always seemed to trudge on, making the highly anticipated wait well worth it when the day actually presented itself. Upon arriving at the platform, the familiar excitement pulsated with him. The sight of the train in its glory nearly made the suffering he'd had to endure worth it. Harry, who was rather sloppily dressed in the rush of things, wasted no time in boarding the train, departing easily with London earth. His hair, to no surprise, was a tangled mess. He had little motivation to even comb it anymore, the way the sable strands nearly engulfed the vibrant emerald pair beneath. He would worry about being tidy once he arrived at the school, and Hermione was present to nag him about it. Now, the only clear mission was scanning the isles for an available compartment.

Draco Malfoy, however, was currently located in one of said compartments, of all places for his head to rest; it was against Pansy's shoulder. Her content strokes to his platinum-blond silk seemed to sooth even Malfoy in this time of rush and perplexity. The other occupants of the compartment were...Goyle, Crabbe, and Blaise. All five Slytherins seemed rather satisfied with the utter silence that subdued the faint murmurs just outside their closed compartment. Malfoy in particular, felt quite relaxed in this comfortable silence...finding advantage to think a moment's time just what might be accomplished this year. Quidditch Cup, House Cup, all belonging to Slytherin? Wouldn't that be nice! Deciding he'd have a look around, Malfoy scrambled up from his stationary position, despite Pansy's squeak of disapproval. Draco slid the compartment door carefully open, poking a blond head out to see just who was taking up the narrow corridor. Who else did the slate greys that averted curiously around land on, but Harry Potter. A bitter fire engulfed the settle grin on Malfoy's pointed face, replacing it with a malicious one.

The sour look that had so suddenly overtaken Draco's features would settle itself evenly upon the Gryffindor's own. For Harry, departing from the Dursley's was a day not so easily spoiled. But confronting that certain face had a way of doing just that. Harry had tensed with a reaction much like that of a feline feeling its territory threatened, bold lion glower to rival that of the serpent's glare. Harry gave no response but to lock Malfoy's eye, seemingly forgetting the bustle of students flocking for desolate compartments. He was nudged rather forcefully by a third year of limited patience, and muttered a brief apology before moving out of his way. Harry would follow in the student's example, and at least attempt to continue onward without the outburst of a brawl.

Draco, who seemed slightly unconcerned at the moment about Potter's behavior, continued down the corridor, where he was bluntly pushed aside and casted against the doors of closed compartments. As he neared Harry, Malfoy averted his gaze down, avoiding the jewels of emerald that made his insides knot. Oh, such hatred for that disgusting little half-blood! Draco spun around, hand muscles flexing easily enough...oh how he wanted the hit that half-blood so badly! With forced control, Draco brushed past Weasel and the Mudblood, discarding any thoughts of the events before hand.

Draco had left the pair groaning at his departure. It was as if the both had thought, in unison, of how very vacant this year would be if not for the presence of that sneering blond. After the anger of their momentary meeting had settled, and Harry's face struggled to cool from the hot, dark red it had faded. He was uncertain as to why just a simple collision between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could cause such a rise of emotion within him. How could Draco Malfoy make him so furious that easily? Having vacantly followed Ron to a compartment they would be sharing with Neville Longbottom, harbored so conveniently across Malfoy's own and down two doors.


End file.
